Sovereign

by Anne Schlea

  The first step is to establish a territory of their own.

  While Atlanta isn’t Serene’s first choice, the instability thanks to Antonia’s nosferatu war is an ideal environment. She can use the existing war to undermine the established regime. By the time the dust settles, she’ll make sure Zartan and his queen are destroyed, the nosferatu are either gone or under siren control, and the city of Atlanta will be a haven for her siren sisters.

  From here they will regrow their numbers. From the streets of Atlanta, they will remember how to be strong. From this building she will build an empire strong enough to stand up to the vampires, the nosferatu, the maji, and every other creature that might come after them.

  From this room, she will return the sirens to their glory.

  Chapter 6

  Runa’s eye flutter open and she takes a deep breath. For the first time in weeks, she feels like she has enough energy to walk to the sofa without collapsing halfway. It’s a good feeling. The dreaded machine she’d been hooked up to had drained her like a battery, leaving her weaker than a human. Her energy isn’t back enough yet to cause any kind of damage, but if she can walk unaided, she’ll take that as a victory.

  She pulls the throw blanket off the bed and wraps it around her shoulders before she makes her way into the main room of the suite.

  Kristoff is sitting at the desk, speaking Russian into his cell phone. She can’t recall the exact time difference, but it must be close to the end of the day there. He’s probably finishing up whatever business he can before the end of their business day. If he keeps his regular schedule, he’ll then move on to work here in the United States. It’s an exhausting cycle of twenty-four-hour days running businesses on two continents on different sides of the world.

  Glancing around the room with her hand on the sofa to help her keep her balance, she notices breakfast is waiting on the dining table. There are enough covered platters there to feed a small village. Runa wonders how frequently extra vampires are here at this time of the morning.

  Her next thought is coffee, smelling wonderful and glowing in a silver teapot. Caffeine will help her energy, right? She turns her body away from the sofa to start toward the table, only to be stopped by a hand on her elbow.

  Kristoff mutters something in Russian and ends his call. “I’ll get it, you sit.”

  “I can pour my own coffee this morning.” Stubborn to a fault, she continues toward the table. Kristoff keeps his grip on her elbow, which turns out to be a good idea because she stumbles when she catches her blanket on an end table.

  “I know you can.” The strength of his hand keeps her from dropping to the floor. Once righted, she continues toward the table. He helps her into a chair and then steps back to allow her to reach out and pour hot liquid from the teapot. Her hands barely shake, but she manages to fill the cup on her own without spilling coffee all over the table. He watches her with a raised eyebrow but no comment or attempt to help her.

  She sighs. The hot liquid is just what she needs, its caffeine-filled goodness will help boost her strength and give her the extra energy she needs to not nap the morning away. One small step for Columbian coffee beans, one giant leap for a valkyrie under the weather. A huge platter covered with a silver lid sits on the sideboard. She looks at it with interest. “Pastries?”

  “Of course.” Kristoff moves the platter to the table and lifts the lid. Inside is a selection of croissants, Danishes, and muffins. He sets a plate in front of her, followed by a cloth napkin.

  Reaching out, Runa grabs a raspberry Danish and takes a bite. She murmurs in delight, happy when her stomach doesn’t revolt against the invasion of food. So far, since waking up, she’d been able to keep down just a bite or two of breakfast each morning. By dinner her appetite returns, but the mornings are still questionable at best. Some mornings, she still ends up retching into a trash can.

  The sweetness of cream cheese icing seems to melt in her mouth, a welcome compliment to the tart raspberry filling. These are freshly made, not from frozen, and delectable. Smiling with happy abandon she takes another bite before she sinks back in her chair. This must be what heaven tastes like.

  Leaning forward, she takes another drink of coffee and turns her head toward Kristoff. He’s sitting in the chair closest to her, his own cup of coffee in his right hand, and his left hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Trying to feel more normal, she turns her legs toward him, allowing him to drop his left hand to her knee. A shudder threatens to run through her at his more intimate touch. She pushes it away, unwilling to let it ruin her morning. Too much seems to be going right. “Let’s go to dinner tonight. I’m tired of being stuck in here.”

  A moment of surprise whispers through Kristoff’s eyes, then he hides it behind another sip of coffee. When he looks at her again, it’s gone. His voice is calm and even. “Are you sure you’re ready to go outside?”

  “I’m not that fragile.” Proving a point, she leans in and kisses him on the mouth. Unhappy butterflies take flight in her stomach; she pushes them back down. She’s valkyrie, she can’t let what happened rule the rest of her life. “I’m bored. If you’re worried, we don’t have to go out, isn’t there a restaurant here in the hotel where your food is prepared? Can’t we go there?”

  “Sure.” He reaches up and brushes a hand through her hair, his body relaxing. He leans forward to kiss her on the forehead. Lingering close, he takes a deep breath and then moves back to his own seat. His hand returns to the coffee. “If that’s what you want. I’ll need to get you some clothes, unless you want to go out and get them yourself.”

  Runa hesitates. She doesn’t want to seem so needy, but the idea of being that far out in the open suddenly makes the butterflies take off again. Only this time they’re being chased by a pack of angry bees intent on destroying the butterflies. Maybe she isn’t quite as ready as she thought she was. Inside Kristoff’s suite at the hotel, no one will ever be able to get her. It’s a virtual fortress of impenetrability. Outside, with her powers virtually non-existent, there’s little to stop someone from killing her. Or taking her hostage again.

  She’d rather die than be held captive by those monsters again.

  Bless him, Kristoff can read her face better than anyone. Without waiting for her response, he lifts her hand to his lips. “I’ll take care of it; I need a good challenge. It’s been too quiet around here. Would you like to give me a clue to what you’d like, or should I trust my powers of deduction?”

  “No clues.” She smiles, grateful he isn’t making her put her fear into words. In his special way, Kristoff is taking care of her, helping her to feel normal. “Surprise me.”

  “Living dangerous.” With a gentle squeeze of her arm, he leaves the table to disappear into his bedroom.

  Runa watches him close the door behind him and feels a pang of discomfort. She wonders where he’s been sleeping. He hadn’t tried to sleep in the bed with her and Dinah had been using the extra bedroom. Each morning, after she’s wakened, he comes in to claim a change of clothes for the day and then use the bathroom to shower and get ready with the door firmly closed. Afterwards, he leaves her the space until the following morning.

  They’d spent time together in that bed enough times before her captivity. Why not now? Why the extra precautions? Is it fear that her sisters will show up and catch them? Or is there more?

  Over her shoulder, she glances at the sofa. It’s comfortable enough, and warm enough with the throw blanket. He’s probably been sleeping there. Knowing him, he’d rather sleep in the bathtub than make her feel uncomfortable by trying to share her bed. Maybe, she thinks, she should let him know he can sleep with her.

  The thought sends her into a moment of panic.

  She hasn’t shared a bed with a man – or anyone else – while sleeping since she was a human. It’s asking for trouble, and the thought makes her terrified. Asleep, she can be hurt. There would be nothing to stop someone from doing anything they want to her.

  But you can
trust Kristoff, she tells herself quietly.

  The panic starts to subside. She can trust Kristoff. He’s never done anything to hurt her. In fact, he’s allowed himself to be hurt in her stead on more than one occasion.

  He’s just trying to get into your pants.

  Is he? Runa wonders.

  Despite her renewed energy, he hadn’t made any attempt to be physical with her other than a gentle kiss and a lingering touch on her arm or shoulder. If she hadn’t been with Kristoff in the most intimate sense of the word for centuries, she’d swear he was nervous and unsure.

  Another wave of panic hits her. He must have been the one to pull her from the nosferatu holding room. He saw what they did to her. He must think she’s dirty now. He isn’t trying to get into her pants because he doesn’t want to.

  She pushes the thought away, and along with it, a wave of nausea that threatens her breakfast. She can’t think about this now. It’s too much. She’s committed to leaving the sanctuary of the suite tonight; that’s what she needs to concentrate on. Save strength for that. Deal with the rest later.

  The door to the suite opens, letting in Dinah with Britta following close behind.

  “Oh, breakfast.” Britta, dressed in her normal black leather pants and top, plops down at the table across from Runa and grabs a pastry. Runa wonders what the hotel security thinks of a valkyrie dressed for battle coming and going from their boss’s suite. Britta sniffs at the coffee, makes a face, and then reaches for a glass and the carafe of orange juice. “I don’t guess there’s any champagne around here to add to the juice?”

  “Check the cabinet behind you; who knows what Kristoff has stored back there.” Dinah touches Runa gently on the head, her soothing energy filtering through in a way that settles Runa’s nerves and stomach all at the same time. “How are you feeling this morning?”

  While Runa was born with seemingly no parental bones in her body, Dinah seems to have them in abundance. Since Runa woke from her coma-like sleep, she’d been here daily to check on her, to make sure she was able to stand to bathe and wash her hair, to be sure she was eating; basically, to be a mom. Not a nurse, that would be too sterile a description. But to be a mothering figure.

  “Getting better.” Runa smiles up at her, grateful for her care. “I told Kristoff I’d like to go down to the restaurant for dinner tonight. That maybe it’s time for me to get out of this suite.”

  “That sounds like a good idea. Baby steps to getting outside.” Dinah walks over to the sofa and picks up the throw blanket to fold. No matter how many times Kristoff tells her there’s maid service, she refuses to stop tidying. Next, she opens the shopping bags she’d brought to put some staples in the cabinets. The hotel is slowly becoming alarmingly “homey.”

  Britta watches Dinah with playful eyes, eating her pastry, and making a good show of angst over a lack of champagne, until Dinah disappears into the extra bedroom with her bags. Once the door shuts, Britta’s voice becomes very serious. “Torhild is calling a War Council. I have Jenna doing her best to help me force a delay to give you time to gain strength, but it’s coming. You need to be ready.”

  “It’s about time.” Runa narrows her eyes, thinking about her hatred for Torhild. Her energy shimmers around her, a good sign, a rush of warmth spreads through her. Torhild could vanish forever and Runa wouldn’t mind. “A War Council should have been called long before now.”

  “She doesn’t give a fig about war and you know it.” Britta takes a swallow of orange juice, frowns, then pushes up from the table to open the sideboard and rummage around inside. Still no champagne, but this time she does pull out a mason jar filled with clear liquid.

  Runa frowns. Why does Kristoff have moonshine in his sideboard?

  Britta adds some to her orange juice, thinks for a moment, and then adds some more. “She’s going to bring you before the Council because of your relationship with Kristoff. She’s going to use it as the reason you’ve become weak.”

  “Weak?!?” Runa pushes away from the table and stands up. She feels a renewed jolt of energy run through her body, the most strength she’s felt since before the raid. At least Torhild is good for something. “I would love to give Torhild a few days in the loving care of the nosferatu, then we’ll see who’s weak. Weak. I am not weak.”

  “Just the messenger, Runa.” Britta drinks some of her improvised mimosa, grimaces, and sets the glass down. “Will you please tell your vampire boyfriend to get some champagne. This crap is almost undrinkable. It’s bad enough I must socialize with these people, we could at least do it in style. And I mean real champagne, not some sparkling something or other.”

  Runa takes several breaths in and out through her nose while she calms her mind. Unlike many of her valkyrie sisters, she doesn’t always rely on brute strength to get what she wants. Torhild is out to get her, she knows that. They’ve never gotten along and have always sided opposite each other in valkyrie business. In recent years, as Torhild worked to unify as many of the valkyrie to her side as possible, Runa tried her best to stay invisible. Unlike Torhild, she doesn’t want to lead the race.

  “Kristoff isn’t my boyfriend.” Her voice is quiet, wavering ever so slightly. She doesn’t really have the energy to deny that fun fact much longer. After all this time she’s going to have to own the truth soon. According to Britta, very soon. What she does from there is the real question. Does she give up the relationship? Or does she fight for Kristoff?

  He’d fight for her, no question. Shouldn’t she owe him equal loyalty?

  “Right.” Britta snorts and sits daintily back in her chair to continue sipping from her drink. “Keep telling yourself lies if you want.”

  Consequences run through Runa’s mind. She can disavow Kristoff, never seeing him again. Most likely, though, her sisters will cry for his head and try to force Runa to kill him. That thought hurts her more deeply than she would like to admit so she pushes it away. Alternatively, she can fight on his behalf before the War Council. Looking down at her body, she admits she might not have the strength.

  The third, and potentially most likely consequence, is her own death. She’s broken the code by taking a permanent lover. Torhild has every right to call for her own blood.

  No, the only way out will be for her to stand before the War Council and claim Kristoff as her own. Any other option, any option of playing off their relationship as anything other than permanent is gone.

  Runa reaches out to grab the closest thing to her, an empty coffee cup, and sends it sailing across the room. It hits the far wall and shatters, the white pieces of porcelain showering the floor. Runa feels a burst of energy and smiles. It seems her anger may be the path to wholeness.

  The door to Kristoff’s bedroom opens a moment later, his hair still wet from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He looks from Runa to the broken cup to Britta, unsure of what to say or who to say it to.

  Runa and Britta both give him the once over, a small smile tilting Runa’s lips upward.

  “She seems to be feeling better.” Britta toasts him with her juice concoction, smells the glass, and frowns. “Since you’re out of the show, would you kindly order up a bottle of champagne?”

  Runa lets the hot shower water run across her skin and relax her tense muscles. After lunch, Dinah leads her down the hallway to a deserted exercise room. The door had been marked with a temporarily out of order sign to assure no one would be there except for Runa. Dinah had offered to stay, but Runa insists she’s fine. The door closes and locks behind her.

  A shadow moves in front of it, one of Kristoff’s men, to keep anyone from being curious. He’ll stay until she’s done in order to help her feel safe.

  The weights look daunting after so many sedentary weeks, but Runa forces herself to get to work. Ten minutes running on the treadmill. Leg press. Lat pulldowns. More running. Military presses. Squats. Ten more minutes on the treadmill. An hour and a half later, Dinah comes to relieve her with a bottle of water and a reminder not
to overdo it.

  Now, with her muscles well used and her body once again feeling alive, Runa’s mind is beginning to remember what it was to be whole. No weakness threatens to drive her to the floor or to make her knees wobble and shudder. Cold hasn’t housed itself in her stomach, building an icy core to the center of her being. Her arms ached in a good way, the muscles stitching themselves back together after being worked on the machines.

  She feels alive.

  Dropping her head back, she allows the water to run through her hair, pulling its weight downward. She picks a bottle from Kristoff’s shelf; he seems to have purchased an entire salon to provide her with an assortment of options to wash it thoroughly. Until today, Dinah had been helping her wash up. Falling over in the shower had been a very real, and very embarrassing, possibility.

  The shampoo and conditioner smell like citrus, which makes Runa think about sandy beaches and Mai Tai’s. She wonders if Kristoff has a jet that could be spared for a quick trip to St. Lucia.

  An alarm on her cell phone warns Runa she’d been in the shower for close to an hour. It’s time to get out and ready for dinner.

  Her stomach grumbles at the thought. Hunger, another good sign. Maybe she’s on her way back to health.

  She rinses her hair and turns off the hot water.

  After toweling off and drying her hair, Runa opens the door leading into the bedroom. Holding the lapels of the thick bathrobe around her, she looks around the room for signs of Kristoff. He’s nowhere in sight, but her new clothes are laid out carefully on the bed.

  A simple black dress, one that will settle just above her knees, with long sleeves that are cut open to her shoulders and a modest, rounded neckline. A pair of Saint Laurent shoes; silver, strappy heels sit in a box next to the dress along with a cosmetics bag full of necessities and a small black jewelry box. Runa grabs the box, popping it open to find a pair of small diamond earrings.